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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236048">When Did We Become One? (*!abandoned work!*.)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/If_ihate_u_desreve/pseuds/If_ihate_u_desreve'>If_ihate_u_desreve</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>? - Freeform, AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Custom AU, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Multi, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Starts in the 70s, Well yes but actually no, Who Killed Markiplier?, a longer fic, canon gender neutral reader, im making this up as i go, my first fic and all that jazz, youre dark-lite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:00:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236048</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/If_ihate_u_desreve/pseuds/If_ihate_u_desreve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I took some deep breaths, each deeper than the last, to calm myself. Then a body fell in front of me. Wait, not a body, the body. The body of Marc. I clambered up as fast my legs and arms could take me, which proved quite hard in this area, as my depth perception seems to have vanished. Marc, or whatever was in his body, whispered “it’s not fair, is it?” though the dark, startling me and proving that it was somehow alive. Before I could blink, it flickered away, leaving an empty void in its place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marc the actor/Y/N the district attorney, Marc the actor/reader, Marc the actor/y/n, Marc the actor/you, Mark Fischbach/Y/N | The District Attorney, i mean you and marc are kinda the same person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Where Did It All Begin?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i am trying to write this in as short a timespan as possible so yall arent left hanging. don't have an end goal in mind, so should be very interesting. it starts as soon as you "die."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As I felt my world fading, and the last of my vision and hearing leave me, I just barely felt my almost dead body hit the tile below. </p><p> </p><p>A gasp shredded through my lungs as I snapped my eyes open again. As fast as relief came that I wasn't dead, it disappeared faster, confusion taking its place in full force. Where was I? Why can I only see black? Did I go blind? <em>Am I in hell?</em> I sat up, faster than I thought possible, whipping my head around the “room.” Only black, nothing else as far as the eye can see. I held my hand up to see if I was really blind, and, no, I could see perfectly.</p><p> </p><p>I took some deep breaths, each deeper than the last, to calm myself. Then a body fell in front of me. Wait, not <em>a </em>body, <em>the </em>body. The body of Marc. I clambered up as fast my legs and arms could take me, which proved quite hard in this area, as my depth perception seems to have vanished. Marc, or whatever was in his body, whispered <em>“it’s not fair, is it?” </em>though the dark, startling me and proving that it was somehow still alive. Before I could blink, it flickered away, leaving an empty void in its place.</p><p> </p><p> Soon enough, Damien and Celine walked -quite calmly, might I add- through the never-ending pit, a blue and red aura emanating from each soul respectfully. <b>“He took everything from us. He trapped us in here with this broken shell and no way out.” </b>Damien spoke, his voice reverberating throughout the empty. </p><p> </p><p><em><b>“It's true,”</b></em> Celine picked up where Damien left off, <em><b>“this whole time I thought it was the house but… I never thought he’d fall </b><b>this </b><b>far.”</b></em> I was confused, my head starting to hurt from this incessant ringing that appeared as suddenly as the rest of the disturbances. <b>“And we played right into his hands. </b><b>He’d been planning it for </b><b><em>years</em></b><b>, and now that son-of-a-bitch is out there walking around in </b><b><em>MY </em></b><b>body-”</b> he was clearly enraged at that thought, and I was starting to get scared. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> One step back y/n. One step back, no more, no less.” </em></p><p> </p><p> a voice rang out in my head; seeing how Damien nor Celine seemed to have heard it, I was confused. This was not my voice, it was too different. And yet, it seemed to know everything. the voice had a small tone of worry in it, but I felt I could trust it, for some reason; so, I did. My right foot shuffled right behind my left, not making any noise strangely. Though, I suppose, nothing about this place is normal. <em> “Good job,” </em>the voice praised me. I made the executive decision not to question the voice further than I already have, as it could be dangerous. I almost swear I could've heard a soft chuckle after I thought that…</p><p><em><br/><b>“Damien, we CAN’T do this right now.” </b></em> Celine interrupted Damien's thoughts. Had it only been less than a second? No, it wasn't- <em><b>“Look, I know you have questions,”</b> </em>Celine’s words cut through my train of thought, making me forget where it was going.<em><b> “I can't answer everything right now. Just know that Marc took </b><b>everything </b><b>from us for his twisted quest of vengeance,” </b></em>the voice scoffed, <em><b>“but death does not mean the same thing here.” </b></em>that statement, in particular, left me with more questions than answers.</p><p><b>“What Celine means by that is… this doesn't have to be the end.”</b> my interest may have peaked, but the voice seemed very unenthusiastic; It didn't even have to say anything for me to sense its stress.</p><p> </p><p><b>“You're trapped in here, just the same as us… but your body, broken as it may be, it’s still out there.” <em>“Marcs not the only one that can use this place to his benefit. The same way that I brought you here, is the same way I can send you back.”</em> </b>The ‘send you back’ echoed more than anything I'd ever heard. It was louder than that elephant singing I heard at the zoo when I was young, louder than the T.V. at full volume, louder than I thought possible. It bounced throughout the void, never stopping, yet never to be repeated. </p><p> </p><p><b>“But you can’t survive on your own,” </b>Damien’s diatribe once again pulled me from my never-ending spool of a mind, <b>“You're dead after all. The Colonel saw to that.”</b> <em><b>“You can’t blame him. Honestly, he's a good man! But… he’s dangerous now…” </b></em>Celine trailed off, possibly reliving something. <b>“I know this all sounds crazy, honestly, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but, I know that I trust Celine, and if you trust us, just… let us in.” </b>my vision flickers a bit, making the world seem empty again, if only for a millisecond, almost like an ever-looming threat.<br/><br/></p><p><em><b>“I won't force this on you,” </b></em> Celine started back up again, <em><b>“you have a choice here. Just know this is the only way that you can escape. </b></em><b><em>Just relax.”</em> </b></p><p> Celine's words of encouragement are almost drowned out by a certain voice yelling at me that this is a trap, to trust in Him (the voice?) and only Him; they will leave you, He can help me instead of them.</p><p> </p><p>Damien gives me a reassuring look, with some comforting words to accompany them, but I could see a glint in those eyes.</p><p> </p><p>I sighed, giving in to the feeling of weightlessness, despite the voices screaming.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>leave a comment telling of it sucked ass or if it was okay, would ya?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Who Am I, Truly?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>yeah it's kinda wonky but I mean, it is my first proper fic, what are ya gonna do? practice, babey. also, you die AGAIN</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My eyes opened; however, I didn't open them. I sat up, no longer feeling the need to breathe, and start looking around. <b> <em>“We’re alive!” </em> </b>two voices ring out, neither my own nor The voice. </p><p> </p><p>It’s then I realized I hadn’t done any moving. I didn't ask my brain to make me sit up, or look around. So, I tried to move my hand.</p><p> </p><p> It wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t blink, even (I didn’t feel like I had to right then, weirdly enough.)  My body started to stand on its own whim, failing a few times as if wasn't used to itself, and looking around even more. By this point, the fact that I had a gunshot wound and a multitude of broken bones hit me, but I couldn't feel pain. I couldn't <em>feel </em>even.</p><p> While looking around, my body caught sight of the Colonel, startling it and making it move back several steps. <b>“Oh, no! No! It’s okay. I-I thought you were dead…” </b> The Colonel took step towards my body. I started struggling; screaming, and shouting, to no avail. He came closer, and my body stepped even closer. <b> “I-I-I mean, of course, you’re not dead! You’re not-how could you be dead?” </b> the Colonel started sputtering wildly, almost as if he forgot words for a second and needed to remember them. <b>“I mean, I-I wouldn’t have killed you. I-I didn’t kill you.” </b></p><p> </p><p>It’s at this point I realized something is wrong. He didn’t usually stutter, he’s using a stranger accent than before, and he’s circling my body, like a hungry shark. <b>“I mean, of cour-I-I… of course! I didn’t kill anybody! Hah, I didn’t- it was all a joke!” </b> The Colonel started moving backward, calming my stressed writhing for a time. <b>“Did Damien put you up to this? Of course, he did! Damien, where are you, you little rapscallion?” </b></p><p> </p><p>Then I knew, the Colonel as we knew him, is gone. He’s suffered too much trauma and shock and had to have fractured his psyche.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The former Colonel started wandering the mansion, calling out for Damien and Celine. It breaks my heart to think about, a man’s mind broken, never to be fixed, convinced his friends to remain alive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My body looks over to something the Colonel was holding. It seemed to be a type of cane. No, not any cane, it was Damien’s cane. A hand reached out to grab it, and as my fingers touched the wood, my world warped. A shockwave was sent through me, as intense when I heard of my mother's passing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My body looked up to the mirror, mere inches from its face, and I saw it was no longer my body. It was pale grey as if someone drained the blood from it; eyes dark brown, verging on black, and a grey aura emanating from it,  flashes of blue and red coming from the body. The flashes never lasted more than a second but they were obvious. The body looked towards the cane, cracking its neck, shattering the glass from the mirror in front of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, I realized I was trapped. No longer inside the body itself, sitting in the passenger seat, just watching; but instead in the mirror that was cracked. The body trapped me in here. I banged on the glass with all my strength, but never got enough glass to fall away for me to escape. The body started walking away, leaving me alone in this cracked void. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“it’s not fair, is it?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I heard the same line I heard at the beginning of all this. The Voice belonging to Marc's body. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. How Did I Get Here?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Not my best work being I have to visit my cousin and her baby in a few hours and that puts a massive load of stress on my mind, so using this as a way to work out my frustrations while also trying to stay as true to the canon as possible is quite hard, as I just want to go off the rails and include tuff like King being a Were-Squirrel. I'm sorry it ended up so short.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I gasped and tried looking away from the broken shards I had been staring from for the entirety of my stay in this hellscape. No matter how hard I tugged and pulled, my vision remained looking into the manor’s foyer</span>
  <span>. The Voice chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That demon put a curse on you, my dear District Attorney.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>“What? What demon? What curse?” you finally shouted at the intruder. The Voice sighed a heavy breath, one full of annoyance, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought you would know by now. That </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thing </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside your old body is no longer human. The souls made a deal with the Demon of this house and now are one. It cursed you to remain in this state for many lifetimes over, for its gain.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>“No… Damien, he-he wouldn’t do such a thing, and Celine… she-… she was like my sister…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My darling, you have no idea of what those souls are capable of, do you? Of course, you don’t. You are a lost soul yourself, so how about I un-lose your soul, hm? Then, once you do as I say, and you obey, I shall tell you All.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obey? Lost soul? My mind went into a tangle, trying to work out the mechanics of all this. “What are you implying I do to become… un-lost?” I muttered a few expletives about how that was such stupid phrasing, that I almost didn’t hear what The Voice had to say next; </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, first I say you need to get out of here. But don’t worry. I’ll do it for you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The glass shattered and fell to the ground, leaving a hole that resembled snow on an old T.V., even had the same buzzing that came with it. I was amazed and in shock, I couldn't fathom how it had done it. I felt extremely dizzy when I kept my eyes open watching this ever-changing static for too long, and for once was glad I couldn’t move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Except I could. I fell into the screaming abyss, the static covering all of my senses, making me feel truly dead. Until it, all stopped, and I could feel cold wood pressing up against my back and arms. Opening my eyes was a struggle, but once they were open, I could see I was </span>
  <span class="u">
    <span>laying in the exact position Marc's body was in</span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> My body tensed all around when I came to that revelation, and by tensing my body I could feel that yes, this was my own body, not Marc’s. How could I tell? A white-hot pain crashed through my senses, making me go limp and scream out. I could easily conclude that my legs and back were still broken. After all, a fall from an 8-foot high balcony wouldn’t be good for the bones. Neither would a gunshot wound, which I still had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I groaned and stayed still for what seemed like an eternity just… waiting. Waiting for something to happen; anything. Whether it be death or long life, I could do nothing but lay and wait. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A patient one? That's new.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>my consciousness was screaming at my mouth to ‘say something, anything!’ but, alas, it would not budge. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look at you. I can tell you are just tearing yourself up inside. Get up, I’ll help, again.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Voice almost seemed annoyed I was in debilitating pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then I saw black slippers approaching my body. The slippers itched a memory in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t quite place where it was. The person kneeled next to my torso, letting me see that they were wearing a red velvet robe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tucking their arms underneath mine, they slowly pulled me up, somehow not disturbing any broken or dislocated bones (which was many.) Once I was fully standing up, I could see his face now. He had a slight scruff of a beard, messy hair, and some red-brown dots splattered on his face, whatever that was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I took a broken gasp. This was, without a doubt, Marc. “M-mar-ac… you're-re alive-ve…?” I stuttered out, honestly surprised it didn’t cause any major pain for me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not… exactly. Just as you aren’t exactly dead, just more undead, I could probably say the same about me, just in a... different way.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Wha-Marc, exp-plain, please?” I asked, my throat getting used to me talking, although my voice was still very raspy. His jaw set, showing his annoyance at all my questions; but a good understanding is all that makes a hero, at the end of the day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I died; you died; that demon trapped you in the mirror; I saved you and gave you my dead body; You are now possessing my body, intertwining our souls. I am a ghost compared to you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>It became clear he was done answering questions, so I shut up and let him take me where he needed to go. Marc readjusted me in his arms to be held like a toddler, ear to ear. He carried me up to the 2nd floor of the now-abandoned mansion, and into a guest bedroom, that, I’m guessing, wasn’t used after the party since the sheets were made and the room was still neat. Marc laid me on the bed, grumbling about how I’m heavier than 12 years ago when he last had to carry me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once I was comfortable in the spare bed, Marc moved a chair that was once in the hallway to face the bed that I was currently in. “don’t you th-think that’s kinda weird Marc?” I slurred, exhausted from the pain and events of this past week. I didn’t even notice how it was getting dark outside until I was laying in a bed, I was so tired. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s for your safety. Trust me, I wouldn’t even consider this if it wasn’t needed. Just sleep, for now. I know you’re tired. We can plan tomorrow; or, maybe next week if it takes that long for you to heal.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No matter how weird recovering from broken legs and, probably shattered, vertebrae sounds, in my delirious state I just accepted it as fact, and relaxed. It only took a few minutes for me to drift off onto the night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>im so, so sorry its so short</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. oneshot for Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>just a lil oneshot of how you, marc, celine, and dames were in college at christmas</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My alarm woke me up, blasting my favorite station right next to my ear, hurting it, if only for a few minutes. I took a deep breath; today was Christmas, Damien and Marc’s favorite holiday, which meant a lot of noise. Not that I minded too much, I babysat for my cousins all the time (and those kiddos are loud as hell,) so I was used to handling loud noises.</p><p> </p><p>Taking a shower and getting dressed in my day clothes went surprisingly fast today, considering how long the rest of the day will seem; or, at least, most of it. Walking out of my room I already could sense the excitement in the common room before I could even see our giant tree. Marc was sitting on the couch practically glowing with anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Marc, how are you?” I asked him, smiling. “Oh, I cannot wait for the present swap! Got everyone a gift I think they’ll love!” he practically yelled with joy lacing his words. I chuckled and glanced at the tree, and sure enough, there were 7 or so presents addressed from Marc himself.</p><p> </p><p>I went to the kitchen to just get some eggs ready for everyone else but found something… unexpected. Celine was cooking. “Oh, hey y/n, didn’t hear you come in.” “Uh, yeah, I just came into… cook…” my thought trailed off thinning about how Celine, the one who Never cooks, is in front of the stove currently. She must’ve seen the dazed look on my face because she started cackling, “Yeah I guess it is a shock to see <em> me </em>, of all people cooking, but I thought id spare you the suffering today. Go wake up Damien, will you? I swear, he sleeps more than a cat.” I nodded, then let her be.</p><p> </p><p>Walking back down the hall towards the bedrooms, it was pretty silent; except for the bear snoring. I sighed and knocked on Dames’ door. The snoring violently stuttered, signaling his awaking. I heard something similar to someone falling out a bed, and then some flailing, and footsteps. Damien opened his door, still in pajamas and hair now tousled, sighing in relief when he saw it was me and not his sister. “Yeah?” he asked, still groggy from being awoken. “Celine wanted you to wake up, and guessing how I can only assume you fell from that sound, I think you are.” He blushed out of embarrassment, “you-you heard that?” I only gave a shit-eating grin at that, to fuel his new-found awkwardness.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Now that the sun was setting, the gifts could be given. Celine rounded us up, setting us on our couch. “Now, Marc, Dames,” they perked up at hearing their names, “you know you get to go first, but I have something to show all three of you.” Marc was sitting on the edge of his seat, and Damien was almost vibrating with suspense. </p><p> </p><p>We all stand up, ready to file out of the room, and follow Celine. She walks past the hall, the kitchen, and even the bathroom, making us look at each other, confused until she opens the front door.</p><p> </p><p>Outside, there was a thing we had read about in the newspaper, an auto-snow-launcher. A small chorus of  “No way!” and “Woah!” started up once we realized what it was. “Isn’t that expensive?” asked Marc, “Yeah, but I think it was worth the few hundred seeing your faces.” I giggled, and Damien moved to embrace her. “Thank you, Celine.” eventually, you joined in on the hug, Marc following soon after. “Yeah, thanks, Celine,” I thanked,  “What they said,” Marc joined. </p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>After all the gift-giving, we settled down for a dinner, prepared by yours truly, coupled with some eggnog, or, as I called it later in the night, “holly jolly juice.” I, unfortunately, don’t remember much from that night, other than catching Marc and Celine cuddling on the couch and taking many, man shakey and blurry pictures to tease them with later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i am ashamed to admit ive gotten caught up in a bout of depression, and with the threat of my mom having COVID, I will have to break. i will continue writing paragraphs when I need to destress, but, for now, I will not be writing in bulk and sending out chapters every day, or every few days. This is the plight of a writer, as we too are human.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. I Am You.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>my mom tested negative! we are still most definitely going to have to be doing stuff like taking vitamins since everyone in ur household gets sick easily, but know that I will be picking up the pace by a smidge. </p><p>Also, there's a scene in here that can be taken as romantic or platonic, so you choose, although its written closer to romance. also pt2 I don't want to make y/n too op or nothin, but they do have some kind of "power", even if it's useless and gets in the way a lot.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I woke up to raspy breaths; like someone was trying to breathe while being choked. Opening my eyes, I knew what was making the, frankly, scary sound. What I saw was Marc, standing in the corner of the room, against the wall, grabbing and clawing at his neck for something that wasn't there, the chair I last saw him in empty. After my eyes adjusted to the now fully dark room, I could make out something dripping from his mouth and, strangely, eyes; It seemed to be a black, tar-like substance. Now fully awake, I scrambled to my feet, only misstepping once, and rushed across the room to attempt helping Marc. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I touched his shoulder, he flickered away just as he did in the Void. All of the sudden, I was the one choking in the position Marc was just in. I could feel something crawling at the back of my throat, making me gag and shiver at the feeling; Something was dripping from my eyes, making everything hard to see. I guess my gagging had woken the real Marc up, as I could see him quickly rise from his spot, rushing to me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Breathe through it. Trust me, it’ll be okay.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marc kept whispering assurances, but I felt like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>breathe, even if I tried. What remained of my vision started going spotty, telling me I was blacking out.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly peeling my eyes open, the first thing I noticed was how everything went from a dark red to a cool grey. The second thing was it was still very dark outside. The third was that I was back on the bed, with Marc practically spooning me with how tight he was holding my body close to his. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or is it his body close to his soul? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Marc had kept one hand on my heart, and one softly holding my neck, to where it wouldn’t hurt, but wouldn’t be unnoticeable. His legs were intertangled with mine, although it was a bit hard to see since the colour(s) just mashed, so I had to go off feeling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breathing was slow, making it apparent he was asleep. Not wanting to wake him, I stayed put for as long as possible; making me fall asleep after about 10 </span>
  <span>minutes.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waking back up, I didn’t even have to open my eyes to know Marc had left the bed, although I could hear him shuffling and breathing nearby. I just wanted to relax for as long as possible, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any more strange happenings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marc must’ve noticed that my breathing had picked up, and shook me awake. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Y/n, I need you to open your eyes for me? I just… need to check something.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Groaning, I slid my eyes open to meet his; everything was still in greyscale, though I just assumed it was the early morning sun shading the world strangely. He gasped, eyes widening as he saw mine. The once beautiful shade had turned pure black, even the whites. Concern writhing in my belly, I asked what was wrong with furrowed brows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“N-nothing. Its nothing. You’ve-you’re just… tired, is all.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>unconvinced, I sigh and agree, I didn’t get the most peaceful rest. “Yeah, I would assume. Had a bad nightmare last night. It was insane.” He sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself from the now quite disturbing gaze. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“D-do you want to talk about it? You don’t ha-ave to,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he stuttered out, clearly nervous. I heaved a sigh and began telling him of my strange nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shuddered, a strange look in his eye forming. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I… have to tell you someth-ing. Something you w-won’t like. You… have become something strange. Something un-human; a Demon, of sorts. Except, not. Demons want chaos, pain, and suffering. But… that dream. It wasn’t a dream. I should have said this sooner, but I am a manifestation of your aura, that being a power of sorts, and when I suffer, so do you. Last night, we became a god, in some twisted way of the word. Able to possess magic. Unfourtinlty, this isn’t what I wanted out of you. Now, I have no idea where to begin with our newfound powers, since my plans have gone to shit, except learning them.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I did all I could in that moment, which was just stare at Marc, in absolute shock. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A/N</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>my keyborads broke and some letters dont worlks so yippe kie wyay</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. its on pause</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>o od</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>just came out as trans and i don't tink my mom accepts me si i ave to pause</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. !important!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>keys still broke, depressions been gettin worse, and my ADhD is killin me daily. moms transphobic. this was also a passin hyperfixation. i miht come back to this one day wit refined skills and fix it up, finish it, but my health issues, mental and physical, need attending too. I'm tired. I'm failing school. I've relapsed and ave started cutting again. my dysphoria mocks me in my mirror. my room looks like a dumpster. i don't feel. my time blindness is only getting worse. i cant go to a doctor because fuckin Medicaid wont let me off, even if I'm on another insurance. i need medicine for so, so many things. I've picked up a mld case of insomnia, one even sleeping pills wont fix. I'm adapting, I always do, but I'm tired of it all. tired tied down stuck need to run and leave leave leave leave leave leave . i dissacotite now.</p>
  </div></div>
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